


Bloody Mary

by TheShatteredRose



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bloody Mary References, Fairies, Hetalia Kink Meme, Horror, M/M, Rituals, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShatteredRose/pseuds/TheShatteredRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has told Alfred time and time again not to mess with the legend of Bloody Mary. It wasn't a party trick, it was real. Of course, Alfred didn't believe him. But Alfred soon learns calling upon Bloody Mary can be costly...</p>
<p>(Re-uploaded for Halloween)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat bewildering I haven't already uploaded this story onto here. Halloween is a good a time than any, I suppose.

_A moonless night..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_A blackened room..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_A darkened mirror..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_A flickering candle flame..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_An Endless reflection..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Pain..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Fear..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Revenge..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Make them suffer..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_...As I have suffered._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Make them scream..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_...As I have screamed._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Endless pain..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Endless sorrow..._

"Bloody Mary!"

_Why...?_

"It's...it's her!"

_Why must you mock me...?_

"Run!"

_Make it stop..._

"The door won't open!"

_I'll make you stop..._

"S-she's coming out of the mirror!"

_Revenge for the pain you have caused..._

"Someone help us, please!"

_...Join me..._

"Let go!"

_...Join me in death..._

" _ **Waaaaaaaaaaarrrrggghhhhh!"**_


	2. Chapter 1

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh! Dude! Did you see that? He just killed her friend! Dude, that's not cool!"

"Yes, quite, Alfred," Arthur said as he patted the hand gripping his arm in a death-like grip, an obvious wince of discomfort on his face. Honestly, that boy had no idea how strong he was.

He really should be back at his beloved home, going through his paperwork for the upcoming meeting tomorrow, but Alfred insisted (insisted meaning he all but flung him kicking and screaming over his shoulder) that he spend the evening watching horror movies with him back at his hotel room.

Why he always had to bring an array of cheesy, gory, _American_ horror movies with him as he visited England, Arthur didn't really want to know. If he asked he would most likely get an insult to his English movie culture and it would only start an all out war between them. He was not in the mood for a movie marathon between the two very different standards of quality entertainment.

Even though he was certain that his beloved British movies would win hands down.

And while it was always so amusing listening to the ever Heroic Alfred scream like a little girl at the scary horror movies he insisted on watching while huddling behind a cushion –and sometimes Arthur himself-, it can become a bit mundane, if not painful to his arm and ears, after some time.

So what was the first movie he insisted that Arthur watch with him? That 1992 movie called "Candyman".

During the course of the evening, Arthur felt himself become quite annoyed with the premises of this movie. It was about a young woman, who happened to a student, who decided to write a thesis about local legends and myths. She goes to visit a part of the town, where she learned about the legend of the Candyman, a one-armed man who would appear when you say his name five times, in front of a mirror.

It sounded all too similar to the legend of Bloody Mary, the spirit of an unfortunate woman who had met her fate in a brutal and devastating way, and who was cursed to forever feel sorrow and pain. When summoned by candlelight in front of a mirror in a darkened room, she would inflect her pain and suffering upon her summoner. In what method she would use to inflect this pain? Well, that all depended on the one who summoned her and the method used to do so.

But at the end of the day, all of her victims ended up dead or mysteriously missing and never seen from again.

While he doesn't mind a good story about myths and legends, he hated these particular kinds of movies that gave the young, the impressionable and the rather stupid the terrible notion that trying to perform the dangerous art of summoning the dead and not-quite-dead was a fun way to pass the time. Standing in front of a mirror with all your giggling friends egging you on was, Arthur believed, not a sign of courage, but of contempt. It was like treating these poor unfortunate souls nothing more than a freakish circus act.

Summoning demonic or dangerous entities was deadly business. He should know.

These legends and myths should not be taken so lightly. Nor should they be ridiculed and made a mockery of. After all, all myths and legends were born from fact.

"Wasn't that wicked, Artie?" Alfred said boldly as the ending credits thankfully, _mercifully_ rolled down the television screen. "Wouldn't it be awesome to summon something like that?"

Arthur furrowed his brow, a deep frown flittering across his features as he snapped his attention to the American beside him. Oh sure, he would make fun of his mysterious and magical abilities, but thought that, that utter rubbish he had just slogged through was awesome? Had that boy no respect for him or the spiritual at all?

"Only if you know what you're doing, Alfred," Arthur scolded. "But a sign of disrespect and that-" he indicated to the television screen with a jab of his thumb. "-is what happens."

But Alfred just laughed that loud, annoying laugh of his. "Candyman isn't real, Artie. Hello? It's just a movie!"

"But the legend this movie is based on is real," Arthur found himself muttering under his breath quite dryly.

And, quite surprisingly, Alfred heard him as he nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, Hell Mary, or something, right?"

It wasn't all that surprising to Arthur that Alfred had heard a variation of the Bloody Mary legend as she was known by quite a few different names. It was quite a common ghost story and was usually seen as a neat party or sleepover trick.

"I believe its Bloody Mary," Arthur pointed out.

"That too," Alfred said dismissively as the final credits finally came to an end. "How do you summon her, anyway?"

Arthur felt his stomach tightened at the question. "Why do you wish to know?"

"I dunno," Alfred said with a shrug. "Maybe I could use this trick to scare the life out of Mattie? Maybe Kiku? Oh, wouldn't be awesome if I could scare Russia with it? Then again, he'd probably break the mirror if he looked into it, huh? Commie bastard..."

"No," Arthur said suddenly and firmly.

"Huh?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Arthur snapped, his facial features creased into a look of sheer annoyance. "She is a tortured and tormented soul who doesn't deserve to be made a mockery off. Let her rest in peace; one mustn't keep reminding her of her painful passing."

Alfred only rolled his eyes in contempt. "Jeez, Iggy-"

Arthur immediately bristled at that awful nickname. "Don't call me that!"

"Don't get all serious on me," Alfred continued undeterred, even going as far as slumping down in his seat and pouting. "I mean, it's just a ghostly legend, it's not like ghosts are real. And they most definitely don't come crawling out of mirrors. TVs, on the other hand..."

Arthur simply gave him a blank look. "...You've been watching those Japanese ghost movies with Kiku again, haven't you?"

"But they're so cool~!"

Arthur sighed and abruptly took to his feet. He wasn't going to sit here a moment longer listening to Alfred disrespect the dead. "I'm going home now."

Suddenly, Alfred latched onto his waist by wrapping his arms around him, his cheek pressed against the small of his back. "Nooo!"

Arthur gave a few indignant and rather un-gentlemanly splutters as he struggled to stay upon his feet, his face a bright red from a blush. "I-I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?"

"I didn't say anything about ghosts..."

Still blushing, Arthur managed to give a disbelieving snort as his hands grasped at Alfred's, tugging at them in an attempt to remove his hold on him. "Then I'll just-"

"Wait!" Alfred squirmed as he tightened his grip, almost making Arthur lose his balance and topple onto him. "I just...want to make sure. You always scare the ghosts away, Iggy~!"

An expression of embarrassed anger flittered across Arthur's features and he managed to turn enough in Alfred's hold to place his hand onto of Alfred's soft blond hair in an attempt to push him away. "How many times do I have to-?"

But Alfred refused to let go and did the one thing Arthur could never say no to. He asked him in that soft, childlike voice he used to use against him when he was younger. "Please, England?"

Arthur instantly melted and tried to frown around his still prominent blush, trying to give the indication that he wasn't at all pleased with this change in events while secretly, he liked to think that Alfred felt safe with him.

Even if he was just protecting him from his own overly-active imagination.

"Oh fine, I'll stay the night," he surrendered, allowing the younger blond to pull him back down onto the couch and crossed his arms in an indignant manner. "Git."

"Alright!" Alfred cheered before he leapt to his feet and over to the small DVD collection he had with him. "Let's watch another scary movie. How about Steven King's It? It's about a murderous clown and..."

Arthur sighed. It was going to be a long night...


	3. Chapter 2

Getting to a world conference on time after he had spent the night with Alfred, sitting through mind-numbly bad acting and then keeping all those nasty shadowy ghosts from his imagination at bay was always so tiring for Arthur. First, he had to awaken Alfred from his slumber, which was difficult enough as that younger nation preferred to lie in.

Then he had to slip out of the hotel without anyone seeing him as the hotel staff were quite adamant that there were no 'freeloaders' - meaning, if Alfred was paying for one person to use a single room then only one, solitary person could sleep in that single room over night. So if anyone were to see him step out of Alfred's room at dawn's first light, Alfred's bill would have just sky rocket.

Those hotel staff...they've got eyes like hawks.

He wasn't doing that to help Alfred save money, of course. It was just...Francis, Kiku or even Elizabeta might just happen to see him walking out of the hotel and get the wrong idea. Their minds, especially when working together, could come up with some colourful –utterly scandalous- scenarios.

After making sure he got away, he then had to rush back home, greet his gentle and kind fairy friends and unicorns, freshen up, gather his paperwork for the day, hastily arrange it in his briefcase and then head back into London, successfully skipping breakfast and his morning tea.

And that bleeding Git was completely oblivious to all the trouble he had to go through for him!

But now, finally after a morning of hectically running and sneaking around, Arthur could sit down and have his delightful cup of tea while he reads the morning paper. Ah, such a calming and peaceful routine...

"Hey Artie!"

Well, there went his peace and quiet. He wasn't expecting Alfred to make an appearance for at least another couple of hours as he was known to be fashionably late. Did that American not know how the wonders of silence?

A second later, Alfred's face appeared before his, shocking Arthur just a little by how close he was. "Did you read the paper?"

"I'm trying to read it now, Alfred," Arthur replied with a twitch of his large eyebrow, hiding his cross look as he lifted the paper higher, blocking his view of Alfred grinning at him. Damn Git looked so refreshed and energetic...

However, the paper barrier between them was no match for Alfred's intent on annoying the life out of him. He simply took his hand and pushed the paper down, filling Arthur's sight with his brightly smiling face again.

"Well, did you read the part about the young girls who were found murdered in their bathroom?" he asked as the paper crumbled under his strong hand.

Arthur suppressed a shiver as his stomach suddenly clenched painfully. He felt a sense of fear and nervousness wash over him. No, he hadn't read that story yet; he had only just got his hands on the paper, so he hadn't had time to read any of it yet.

So, quickly, he removed the paper from Alfred's grip and took a good, hard look at the front cover. Sure enough, there was the story of the slain girls. He didn't have to read the entire article to know what happened. He knew, just by seeing a few key words, he knew.

Oh, when will these people learn not to provoke the dead? Those poor girls...

"It said their eyes were clawed out!" Alfred said aloud as he plonked himself into a seat beside him, his arm hanging casually over the back of the chair, Texas sitting comfortably on the bridge of his nose. "Doesn't that sound familiar?"

Yes, it did sound frightening familiar.

"Yeah, it sounded suspiciously like that Bloody Mary myth," Alfred continued.

"No," Arthur said tensely, his shoulders becoming ridged and straight, his hands tightening to cause the paper to literally wrinkle under the strain.

"Uh huh," Alfred carried on, yet again completely and utterly oblivious to his discomfort. "I thought that, you know, we should investigate it and-"

"Absolutely not, Alfred!" Arthur snapped, his face creased in a look of fury. "I'm not going to tell you how to summon Bloody Mary. You shouldn't dabble with that you do not understand."

Even after reading about those poor, unfortunate girls meeting their deaths in such a grotesque manner, he still wished to meddle with something that was beyond his comprehension?

Alfred was momentarily taken aback of his stern retort before quickly frowning himself, annoyed frustration shimmering in his blue eyes. "Oh, come on!"

"No," Arthur hissed as he slammed the paper down onto the table, pushed himself onto his feet and then stalked away.

_Please, just drop it, Alfred_ , Arthur thought to himself. _Please._

But Arthur should never have underestimated the determination of a certain American when he has his mind set on something, for a few hours later...

"Hey, Iggy!" Alfred said as he came bounding enthusiastically over to him. "I was watching this program on how to get in contact with the dead and-"

Arthur cut him off with a sharp look. "No."

And a few hours after that...

"Hey, Iggy! I just had this really cool drink. Do you know what it was called? Bloody Mary! Isn't that a coincidence, I was just-"

"No."

Arthur's patience was surely running very thin. All he wished to do now was head home and sort through his gradually growing paperwork. He needed to go through it. And he needed Alfred to let go of this dangerous notion of calling upon Bloody Mary.

"Come on, dude!" Alfred all but whined at him as he moved to stand directly in front of him, blocking his path to freedom. "Just tell me!"

Arthur levelled him with a piercing look, his grassy green eyes hard and stern. "No," he said as he stepped around him.

"Please?" Alfred asked as he continued to pursue him.

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"No."

"Pretty please with sugar on top and-"

That was it, Arthur had enough of this.

"Shut up, you flaming git!" he yelled harshly as he spun around to glare at Alfred, dropping his briefcase to the floor with a loud thud and took a threatening step forward, his hands curled tightly and painfully into fists by his side. "I'm not going to tell you how to summon Bloody Mary! I refuse! It doesn't matter how many times you ask or how you beg, I'm not going to tell you! Christ Almighty, why can't you just accept it's for your own good!"

A stunned silence swiftly followed and Alfred just stood there, his mouth slightly open in shock, his eyes staring at him unblinkingly. Then, he furrowed his brow and gave him this oddly curious look. "My own good?"

Arthur blinked a couple of times himself before blushing with a stutter; "Ah, well..."

Then, a sense of desperation touched him and he took a step forward to reach up and grasp Alfred by his shoulders, looking at him in the eyes. "Alfred, listen; summoning Bloody Mary is very dangerous. It's best not to mess with this kind of thing, alright? Whatever you do, you do not mock the dead, Alfred, they can..." he trailed off, shaking his head almost frantically.

_Please, not to you...don't let it happen to you..._

"Just...don't, ok?"

Alfred was clearly shocked and taken aback by this. "Ah, sure."

"Good," Arthur said around a sigh of relief. He then cast his eyes to his own hands that were still clinging onto Alfred's strong shoulders desperately and he quickly pulled them away, a flaring blush raging across his cheeks as he stumbled backwards, awkward and embarrassed.

"So, um, let's just drop this nonsense, alright?" he asked as he shakily fixed his tie before fumbling for his briefcase on the floor. "I have some paperwork that I need to sort through tonight so I can't watch any scary movies with you tonight."

The bright, cheerful, whiny Alfred made an immediate comeback. "Aw, but Iggy!"

A bristle and an indignant cry soon followed. "Don't call me that!"


	4. Chapter 3

Alfred could do nothing but watch with curiosity as Arthur turned to leave, walking briskly, his briefcase held in a white-knuckle grip in his hand and his back rigid straight. He continued to watch his former guardian until he was no longer in sight.

Running a hand through his hair, Alfred wondered to himself what the hell had just happened, a look of bewilderment adorning his face.

He had never seen Arthur react in such a way before, it was almost like he was...dunno...scared or something?

No, maybe it was desperation?

No, that didn't sound right, either. Fearfully concerned?

"My own good?" Alfred muttered to himself, unable to get those green eyes out of his head, never mind the way Arthur had grabbed him by the shoulders, practically begging him not to call upon Bloody Mary.

It...it unnerved him, to be honest. He didn't like it.

But, it also grabbed his interest in a vice like grip. Arthur was always willing to ramble on and on about how his imaginary friends were real and how he would one day prove it to him. But when he actually showed a bit interest in the 'supernatural' Artie all but bit his head off, refusing to tell him anything. Shouldn't he be...dunno, rejoicing in the fact that he actually wanted to know? So, why wasn't he just telling him what he wanted to know?

Why?

"Argh, why is Artie being so difficult?" Alfred shouted toward the ceiling, uncaring if anyone was nearby and should see him yelling at thin air. He didn't care; he was on the verge of ripping hair out. "I just wanna know! Why won't he tell me? He's being mean to me again! Come on, Artie!"

"Alfred?" A familiar voice of his brother questioned from behind him. "Who are you talking to?"

Hiding his surprise, Alfred spun around to smile widely and cheerfully as he offered a huge and heroic thumbs-up to his brother. "Why, to my awesome and heroic self, of course!"

Matthew let his shoulders slumped with a sigh and shook his head slightly, but regardless he held a small smile on his lips at his brother's antics. "Right, shouldn't have asked, eh?"

A soft, sensual laugh was heard and a moment later an arm wrapped around Matthew's shoulders as another blond appeared. "Now now, Amérique, what has Angleterre done this time?"

Hmm, how did Francis know he was talking about Iggy?

"He won't tell me how to summon Bloody Mary!" Alfred blurted out, his frustration showing through as he flailed his arms out at his sides in dramatically. "I mean, dude, it's a myth! Ghosts aren't real, ya know?"

A moment of silence passed, Matthew looking somewhat confused, if not a little startled, while Francis blinked blankly. However, he soon smiled and made an understanding noise.

"Bloody Mary, hmm?" he hummed in thought, a small somewhat smug smile taking form on his lips. "So, Angleterre is still withholding the truth, non?"

"Huh?" Alfred blinked. "You know?"

"Oui," Francis nodded as he flicked a strand of hair from his eyes to wink seductively at him. "Of course I do."

Alfred found himself frowning, his stomach clenching painfully. He felt disappointed that Arthur would tell Francis, his greatest enemy and rival, about Bloody Mary, but won't tell him.

That...hurt.

What was he really hiding from him? Why won't he tell him? It didn't make any sense to him.

"Tell me!" Alfred demanded. "Tell me how to summon Bloody Mary!"

"It's simple, non?" Francis went on to say, placing his hands on his hips, still looking rather haughty to Alfred. It wouldn't be at all surprising to him if Francis was relishing in the fact that he knew something that he didn't. Alfred would be annoyed about that, but right now he simply wanted to know.

He had to know.

"You place a candle in front of a mirror and repeat this phrase 13 times," Francis explained, and really, it sounded simple. It couldn't be that simple, right?

"What phrase?" Alfred questioned with his brow furrowing.

Francis beckoned him over with a curl of his finger. "Come and I will whisper it to you."

Normally, Alfred wouldn't be willing to approach the conceited looking Frenchman, but his curiosity was simply too strong. He shuffled over to the other blond and leaned in close to him, Francis cupping his hand around his ear, his breathing ghosting against his ear.

However, Alfred's brow simply furrowed further after he pulled away, wondering if Francis was just pulling his leg and having some fun at his expense. "I killed your baby?" he repeated. "Really?"

"Oui," Francis replied as he folded his arms over his chest. "You see, mon cher Angleterre has quite a connection to this tale."

"How so?" Alfred questioned.

Francis gave a small, low laugh before replying. "Queen Mary the First."

"Ah, that's right; I've heard that one as well."

Alfred was startled at the new voice suddenly jumping in, but then he remembered who was owner of that voice. He had forgotten that Mattie was here as well. Dude was always so quiet; it was hard not to not notice him, right?

"Huh? Whatya mean, Mattie?"

"Well, from what I've heard about the legend," Matthew said as he turned to Alfred, a thoughtful look on his face as he went into a quick explanation. "Queen Mary the First was nicknamed Bloody Mary after she violently executed and burnt people at the stake for heresy throughout her 5-year reign as Queen of England. She also was unable to have any children and suffered two 'phantom' pregnancies, that's why it is speculated that you chant "I stole or kill your baby" and she'll appear."

"Oui, that is correct, mon Mathieu," Francis crooned as he wrapped his arms rather intimately around the Canadian, who immediately blushed a tomato red and made a tiny eeping noise at the embrace.

"Dude," Alfred said slowly, a look of confusion on his face. "I thought it was about some girl called Mary Worth who was hideously scarred in some kind of an accident."

"That's one variation," Matthew nodded before he tapped his flushed cheek in thought, his other hand trying to subtly smack away one of Francis' wondering hands. "Another says she was a witch that was burnt during the Salem Witch Trials who screamed out a curse before she died."

Alfred nodded, letting all this information sink in. Queen Mary? Was that the reason why Arthur wouldn't tell him? Did Arthur really believe that the legend was actually about his former Queen's spirit?

He needed to get to the bottom of this. He had to do this ritual, call upon Bloody Mary to show Arthur, to prove to him that this Bloody Mary legend wasn't true. His former Queen wasn't a ghost, she wasn't stuck in some mirror and she most certainly wasn't tearing out the eyes of those who call upon her!

He will prove to Artie that Bloody Mary wasn't true so he won't be so scared anymore. And he'll show him how much of a Hero he really was!

"So, all I have to do to summon Bloody Mary is to light a candle in front of a mirror, turn off the lights and say the phrase "Bloody Mary, I killed your baby" 13 times and she'll appear?" Alfred summed up, his eyes narrowing in determination.

"Oui," Francis confirmed, finally removing his grip from Matthew.

"So, that's how you do it?"

Alfred blinked. That voice didn't belong to either Matthew or Francis. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like...

"Yo, Dude, Prussia," Alfred said as he looked around, searching for the Albino. "Where'd you come from?

"Kesesese," came the familiar snigger before a head of shimmering silver hair was seen peering around a corner of a door way. "You didn't notice me because of my awesome sneaking skills!"

And from behind Gilbert was a small boy, about 10 years old in age and in a sailor suit appeared. "I'm here, too!"

Dude, they were eavesdropping! That was totally _not_ awesome!

Seeing that he was found out now, Gilbert came slinking out of his hiding spot and strolled over to them in a rather casual manner. "I've been hounding ol' Artie for the ritual regarding this Bloody Mary for years!"

Alfred felt a bit happier knowing that Arthur wasn't refusing to tell just him and him alone. Yeah, that made him feel just that little bit better. It still annoyed him, though.

"I don't know what this Bloody Mary is," Peter said as he skipped over to them as well, seemingly happy to be noticed by his soon-to-be-fellow nations and countries. "But if Jerk-Arthur doesn't want anyone to know, then I have to know!"

Hmm, a lot of people have been intrigued about this Bloody Mary myth and yet Arthur refused to tell them. Was he really that over-protective of something that wasn't even real?

Now Alfred was more than determined to prove to Arthur that Bloody Mary wasn't true!

"Then let's do it!" Alfred announced loudly. "Let's summon Bloody Mary!"

Matthew didn't seem all that enthusiastic, though. "Al, I don't know..."

"Come on, don't tell me you believe in ghosts?" Alfred said in a whiney, accusing tone. "They don't exist! Now I can show Artie that ghosts don't exist. Besides, it might be a fun way to pass the time, right? Nothing's going to happen, but it might be fun trying to scare ourselves silly."

"Yeah!" Peter cheered excitedly. "And I can show Jerk-Arthur that I can be a brave nation, too!"

Gilbert seemed just as enthused about the prospect and rubbed his hands gleefully together. "Keseseses, his Supreme Awesomeness is up to the challenge!"

"Angleterre won't like it one little bit..." Francis stated in a serious, somewhat sombre tone of voice. But soon, a sly smile slipped across his lips and he chuckled. "Oui, I'm in."

"Then it's settled!" Alfred confirmed with a pump of his fist, totally disregarding Matthew's reply. "My place tonight, we'll debunk this myth once and for all!"

"Yeah!"


	5. Chapter 4

The beautifully large and spacious executive room at the hotel Alfred was staying at was comfortable; a small kitchenette and sitting room were located immediately upon entering, the rest of the commodities were located through a narrow hallway, of which could be closed off if one requested more privacy. Simple but stylish furniture littered the room, giving it a welcomed and homely feel.

And the three-way bathroom en-suite was quite large...for one or two people to use at once.

But having five people – three nations, one used to be a nation and one who wants to be a nation – crammed in one room? The sight was actually quite a comical to see. Even more so when they were all gathered around the sink vanity, huddled around a single candle in front of a large mirror with all the lights out.

Alfred, of course was in the centre of the group like the true hero he was. Gilbert and Francis were on one side of him, Gilbert eagerly close to the mirror and Francis behind him, looking calm and relaxed. Matthew and Peter were on the other side of Alfred, near the door, Matthew not looking all that comfortable and Peter unusually quiet, seeming a little bit scared of the lights behind out.

But finally, finally! Alfred had the means and the right technique to call upon that so-called legend of Bloody Mary. This was what he wanted, what he had to do and it was about to finally be done!

But...

Still, he felt a sense of trepidation now that he was standing here, unable to forget his previous conversation with Arthur. He looked so serious when he asked him not to mess with this legend. He had actually begged him. Arthur never begged or pleaded with anyone. Nor did he show his fear so readily.

And yet, his eyes were fearful.

"Go on," Gilbert goaded him as he nudged him in the side, pushing Alfred into the centre of the group. "What are you waiting for?"

"Ah, well," Alfred said with an unnatural sense of hesitancy as he gazed into the mirror, his reflection illuminated by the gentle candle light, giving his appearance a rather eerie, haunted look. "Artie keeps telling me not to mock the dead."

Another provoking jab against his side. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?" Gilbert snickered.

"No way, ghosts aren't real!" Alfred immediately exclaimed, seemingly upon reflex.

"So there's no harm in mocking them, right?" Gilbert said as he leaned against the sink's vanity, folding his arms smugly over his chest. "It's not like they can come back and get us."

"Yeah, I guess..."

Alfred just couldn't get that image of Arthur practically begging him out of his mind. How his hands grasped his shoulders in a tight grip, trying to be firm and yet he was trembling as he looked up at him with serious and concerned eyes.

Somehow he felt as if he was betraying Arthur's trust.

He didn't like it. Not one little bit.

But he couldn't back out now, not after finally learning how to complete the summons of Bloody Mary and dragging a group of others with him to witness the event.

"But Artie seemed really adamant..."

"Oh, let me do it then," Gilbert snorted as he pushed Alfred out of the way to stand directly centre of the mirror, placed his hands on the sink and leaned in close, eyeballing the mirror with a snarky look. "Hey Bloody Mary, a dingo ate your baby!"

Alfred found himself frowning while Francis sniggered and Matthew sighed, actually slapping his forehead in exasperation.

"We're in England, not Australia...Twit," Matthew murmured.

"No," Alfred said with determination as he pushed Gilbert back, letting the Prussian slink back with a smirk and a smug fold of his arms. "I said I would do it and I will."

"Well, get on with it then."

Turning his gaze to the mirror again, Alfred felt that unsettling sense of fear in his stomach. But he pushed it away. "I have to say this thirteen times, right?"

"Qui and not too quickly," Francis reminded him.

Thirteen times? Man, he's going to sound like a parrot or something.

"Aw, man," Alfred groaned before straightening his shoulders. "Fine."

Placing his hands on the sink, Alfred steadied himself as his fellow countries gathered around him. "Bloody Mary," he said as he gazed into his own reflection. "I killed your baby."

And...nothing. Well, going good so far!

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Heh, still nothing! Hehe...er...

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

...Um, ok, why was he starting to feel so...?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Apprehensive?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Uncomfortable?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Francis had better not be touching him!

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

W-what's that prickly feeling on the back of his neck?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Did it suddenly get cold in here?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Dude, he's got goosebumps all of a sudden!

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Ah! The candle almost flickered out!

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Did...did someone just groan?

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

One more and it'll be all over with...not literally, of course! Hehe...

"Bloody Mary, I killed your baby."

Alfred held his breath and...silence. But, the atmosphere, it felt somewhat...different, unusual. You know the feeling you get when you're watching a good horror movie and you know something ghastly was about to happen? Yeah, he was feeling that now.

In the murky darkness of the mirror, within in the reflecting flickering candle light, something stirred. A figure, a form of...something. White, black and red. Suddenly, a hand was pressed against the mirror, long and bony fingers spread out in a clawing motion. But the hand...it was in the opposite direction that it should be. The palm was facing him and it was clawing at the mirror...

From the inside?

Another hand appeared, ghostly and frail, nails scraping and scratching against the glass; it was a spine tingling the noise. It was unnatural...it was unreal.

Alfred swallowed thickly, unable to take his eyes away from the two corpselike hands. The fingernails were long, chipped and covered in a deep reddish black substance. It almost looked like blood...

Blood?

His heart stopped. A face...an ashen face was now emerging through the shadows; no body, just a disembodied head. Large, grotesquely red lines of broken flesh ran jaggedly down sunken, ghastly pale cheeks. Sticky strands of inky black hair was plastered against the skin, covering the eyes.

Suddenly, the disembodied head fell to the side, the forehead pressing against the inside of the mirror and a single eye, black, empty and piercing peered out through the mirror, through the glass. The eye socket was charred, surrounded with peeling gray skin.

_Why?_

W-what was that? A voice?

_Why do you mock me?_

Alfred took a step backwards, his hand flying up to his mouth as bile lodged in the back of his throat. He suddenly felt weak and cold, fear clutching at his chest.

That smell...it was the smell of burning, rotten flesh. It was making him nauseous, lightheaded.

_**Slam!** _

Alfred literally jumped due to a sudden and loud noise and his eyes immediately moved to where he thought the noise came from...and his eyes immediately widened, his heart rate increasing, his breathing becoming still.

A hand, attached to a long bony arm now rested against the vanity of the bathroom sink...and it was still moving. Long fingers twitching and sharp, jagged nails were scraping against the vanity. Scratching, clawing, scraping...

This...this wasn't real. This couldn't be real. It was just his imagination, right?

Alfred felt small again, frightened. Just like when he was a small child, being chased by the ghostly shadows of his room; he wanted Arthur. He wanted Arthur to come to him, his grass green eyes warm and gentle, his touch soft and understanding, his presence comforting and protective.

Artie? Where are you?

A flash of white caught the corner of Alfred's eye before a sharp pain ripped across his forehead, just over his right eyebrow. Alfred whipped his head to the side, his hand flying up to his forehead on reflex. Allowing his fingers to touch his skin, he felt something warm and sticky and as he pulled his hand away to inspect his fingers, all he could see was red.

Deep, crimson red.

Blood?

Ghosts weren't real. But...that was real blood coming from the real pain on his forehead.

"My babies," a croaky, scratchy murmur was heard.

Turning back to the mirror, he saw the form of a bloodied woman that was slumped over the bathroom sink, her stringy black hair spilling out of the porcelain like inky-black spider webs. Her body appeared to still be half inside of the mirror, vanishing into the empty void. And she was now trying to claw her way out, her long nails like needles as they scraped against the vanity. Her movements were desperate and frantic and dangerous.

And the blood...there was so much blood.

" _Whatever you do, you do not mock the dead, Alfred."_

Arthur...He knew... he knew this would happen!

I'm so sorry...

Suddenly, she threw her head back at a painful angle, her heavily and hideously scarred face staring with black, empty eyes at him, her mouth open and wide with a terrifying, spine-tingling scream.

"You took my babies away!"

...Oh shit!

Alfred's hero instincts kicked in the moment she began to flail those blade sharp hands of her wildly and he acted by literally pushing everyone who were frozen in shock and disbelief, out of the room, his clear blue eyes wide in fear.

"Run!"


	6. Chapter 5

Casting his green eyes over yet another official document, Arthur brought his china tea cup to his lips, taking a slow and drawn out sip. He was currently sitting outside, amongst the sweet smelling perfumes of his beloved roses, his tranquil garden offering him a peaceful sanctuary away from the prying eyes of the world. He so loved to sit out here, with his tea, listening to his fairy friends as they danced and played about, singing and laughing. They helped soothe his weary soul, help ease away any troubles he had gathered during the course of the day.

But, best of all, it was private out here, under the twinkling fairy lights that were strung from tree to tree. His tea pot, full of his favourite tea, sat on a wooden table, next to his brief case that was filled with his paperwork.

He was wearing a rather casual outfit; loose jeans and a woollen turtle neck sweater that was a little bit too big on him, coming down to rest against his thighs. But he didn't care. It was comfortable. Even a sophisticated gentleman like him had clothes in which was the best to unwind, did they not?

However, he'd be damned if he allowed anyone, especially Alfred, to see him so casually dressed. Alfred would no doubt find delight that he wasn't wearing his vests and suits and would not stop going on and on about it.

Nothing could be better than ending a somewhat stressful day sitting outside with his beloved fairy friends.

He, however, was having a difficult time concentrating on his menial paperwork. He had this feeling that something just wasn't right, and he was usually spot on whenever he got these types of gut feelings.

Alfred...

It must have something to do with that American Git.

Arthur was used to the sudden feelings of dread that would come over him in a all consuming shudder whenever Alfred, wherever he was in the world, thought of an awesome scheme or plan that would make 'Iggy' so proud!

Yes, it wasn't uncommon for him to be peacefully concentrating on his needlework only to prick himself a second later because of a sudden shudder and a vision of Alfred's smiling face popping into his mind.

But what he was feeling right that very moment was something else entirely – and he didn't like it one little bit. There was a genuine feeling of trepidation settling in the pit of his stomach. Not even engaging in blissful conversation with his gentle fairy friends and a strong cup of earl gray tea could ease these jitters.

"Arthur? Hey, are you listening?"

A light tug on a strand of his hair pulled Arthur out of his thoughts and he tilted his head to the side, looking at a small fairy of loving reds and pink.

"Oh, Acacia," Arthur said with a small apologetic smile. "Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just thinking."

Fairy Acacia tilted her head to the side as well, blinking her blue eyes in question. "About what?"

Another fairy soon piped up, numerous fairies now creating a shimmering semi-circle around the Brit. "Yes, tell us!"

A motherly looking fairy appeared right before him, her robes elegant and soft, her face docile and understanding. Gentle Dandelion; such a motherly figure, he could talk to her about anything.

"What's brothering you, Arthur?" she asked with a small tilt of her head.

"I..." Arthur started to say, furrowing his thick brow in a slight frown as he tried to verbalize what he felt was wrong. "Just can't seem to stop thinking about Alfred."

Giggles. Light, airy giggles immediately followed. "I see."

Realizing the implications in his words a moment later, Arthur blushed a deep, scarlet red and bristled with indignity in his seat, almost knocking over his cup of tea in his rush to clarify his statements.

"Not like that!" he actually squeaked. "I mean, about his sudden obsession with calling upon Bloody Mary! Tch, stupid Git just doesn't understand!"

He should be rightly annoyed and frustrated at the American. Instead, however, his heart suddenly clenched and he placed his hand upon his chest. His other hand moved up to clutch at his forehead, his brow still furrowed deeply. "It's dangerous. I feel...uneasy. I can't concentrate."

Dandelion's golden eyes narrow suddenly and she fluttered down to stay a few inches away from Arthur's face, her tiny hands clasped in prayer against her breast. "There is a cloudy forecast for your friend."

Arthur's eyes widen with fear. Dandelion was an oracle fairy; her predictions were as accurate as his own intuition. She rarely spoke of her predictions and offering that one's forecast was cloudy was even more rarer.

"What do you mean?" Arthur swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry.

Before Dandelion could offer a possible explanation to her cryptic words, the shrill of his phone cut through the silence, causing Arthur to nearly jump out of his skin. With slightly trembling hands, he picked up his mobile phone that was surrounded by his untouched paperwork and he cast a quick glance at the screen as he tried to ease his rapidly beating heart.

"It's Alfred," Arthur said aloud to his fairies before pressing the answer button.

But, before he even had the chance to say hello or what it was that he wanted, Alfred's voice erupted from the phone, uncharacteristically frantic, desperate and fearful, instantly shattering the peace and tranquillity around in Arthur's garden.

"Arthur!"

Arthur sat up rigid straight, his eyes wide in surprise. "What?" he immediately replied, the fearfulness he felt before now returning. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Ah, well, you know how you told me not to do that thing...?" Alfred's voice quickly came through the phone and he sounded rather breathless, yet jittery at the same time.

"There are a lot of things I told you not to do," Arthur retorted, his hand tightening on the phone pressed again his ear, creasing his thick eyebrows again. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Er, the one about the ritual?"

"Ritual...?" Arthur just about stopped breathing.

"Ah...yeah..."

...No...

Oh God, NO!

"You stupid, brainless git!" Arthur cursed loudly as he leapt to his feet, scattering paper and his cup of tea everywhere from his sudden movements. "How many times have I told you-!"

"I know, I know!" Alfred's voice cracked with static through the phone. "I'm sorry!"

He...he apologized? This was not good, Alfred was genuinely terrified! Alfred wasn't doing this in order to get a reaction out of him, but was sincere.

Ok, ok, ok...now what? Alfred had completed the ritual and from the abundant amount of fear in his voice, he presumed that Bloody Mary was trying to claw her way out of the mirror.

Ok, he needed to calm down, he had to be calm for Alfred and get him through this. He called him for help, and darn it, he's not going to let Bloody Mary harm his Alfred! Former Queen or not!

"Where are you?" Arthur asked as he ran toward his house, his mind busy trying to locate his car keys. "Are you at the hotel?"

"What do I do, Iggy?" Alfred yelled through the phone, the fear in his voice so clear. "She's trying to kill us!"

Arthur's heart just fell into his stomach. "Us? Who else is there with you?"

"There's-"

A noise, sounded nothing more than static on the phone on Arthur's end, but a scream, not a yell, but an actual scream of fear far off into the distance immediately followed the noise. More crashes were heard, giving Arthur the indication that whoever was with Alfred when he summoned Bloody Mary were now in the fight for their very lives.

"What was that?" Arthur demanded after more crackling static.

"The light bulbs just blew?" Alfred's voice seemed to echo over the phone, panic well and truly setting in now. "Why isn't the light holding her back? I thought that as soon as you turn the lights on she'd disappear!"

"It's going to take more than a flick of a switch to get rid of a vengeful ghost, Alfred," Arthur said as he finally made his way into his house, car keys in hand and now searching for his shoes. "Please tell me you didn't mock her."

"Ah..." Alfred paused, seemingly on a wince of guilt by what he had done. "Francis said it was the only way!"

"You don't mock the dead!" Arthur practically shrieked, his panic momentarily replaced with anger. He should have known that stupid frog had something to do with it. "I'll kill that bloody frog!"

However, all anger and resentment he felt disappeared immediately when he was greeted with yet another scream through the phone. It sounded close and it sounded somewhat familiar. It caused Arthur to momentarily pause, focusing his full attention on the phone that was pressed so tightly against his ear.

"Alfred!"

"S-she's got Francis!"

He knew he knew that voice and he knew Francis was currently being strangled. He knew that sound for he, himself, had strangled that blasted Frenchman more times than he cared to remember.

Ripping the phone away from his ear for a mere moment, Arthur turned to his fairy friends who were hovering around him and had been doing so the entire time. "Quickly, I need my Protection Spell book!"

"Right away!" Fairy Acacia said with her eyes narrow in determination before disappearing in a cloud of sparkles, three or four more fairies choosing to follow her.

"Alfred?" Arthur pressed the phone against his ear again as he threw open the front door of his house, not bothering to close it as it would take too much time. "Alfred can you hear me?"

"Shit!" Alfred cursed and then grunted. "She's strong..."

He had to get there now!

"I'll be there as soon as I can!" Arthur said firmly as he reached his car, cursing as he struggled with his keys.

"We'll come too, Arthur!" A fairy chattered into his ear.

"Yes," Fairy Dandelion said gently, yet firmly. "We won't let anything happen to you."

"You'll be safe with us," Fairy Acacia reassured as she appeared beside him, her along with several more fairies holding onto the book he requested they retrieve.

Yes, Arthur knew he would be safe, but Alfred...Alfred...

"Alfred, talk to me," Arthur all but pleaded as he started his car. Pulling the car into drive, he gripped his free hand on the wheel tightly in a white knuckle hold when he realised that he could hear nothing through the phone.

Silence. Dead silence.

"What's going on?" he tried again. "Alfred? Alfred?!"


	7. Chapter 6

The first thing Alfred could think to do after he pushed everyone out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him on reflex was to call Arthur on his phone. He moved instinctively, pulling his phone out of his pocket, his thumb lingering above the quick dial button. But before he could press it, a rattling noise made him whip around to focus all his attention on the door he just shut. He held his breath.

It...sounded like the door handle.

"Alfred!" Matthew cried as he suddenly wrapped his arms around one of Alfred's, clinging onto him, his blue eyes wide and fearful. Alfred could feel him trembling, even though his grip was like steel around his arm. "W-we can't let her get out of the room! W-what will happen to the other guest staying here?"

Shit, he didn't think of that. This hotel was full of people; they can't let some vengeful ghost run riot.

"Francis!" Alfred yelled over his shoulder, reluctant to take his eyes off the door as backed him and Matthew away. "What do we do now? How do we send her back?"

"I don't know..." Francis admitted meekly with Peter cowering and pale behind him. "I never really asked. Oh non, non, non, I didn't think he was serious..."

"Try turning the lights on!" Gilbert suggested loudly. "I read somewhere that the only way to get rid of her is to turn the lights on!"

That sounded kinda reasonable, Alfred mused as he made an attempt to locate the light switch.

However, before any of them were able to locate the lights, they all went silent as they turned to the bathroom door after hearing a light scratching noise. Never before had such a simple structure been so...perilous.

The door handle rattled, softly at first before becoming prominent, frantic even. It was becoming so strong that the entire door seemed to be shuddering from a force hidden behind the wooden structure. Then, everything went complete still.

A thick and heavy silence reigned, everyone watching and waiting with baited breath.

Then a light rattle, the doorhandle physically moving. Slowly, it began to turn. Turning and turning, slowly yet fluidly until a soft click was heard and the door popped open, the door handle slowly moving back to its original position.

The door slowly, torturously slowly, swung open, creaking eerily before coming to a rest with a light thud on the wall behind it.

In the room...it appeared empty, darkness filling it entirely with menacing shadows, almost like a dense fog that was now beginning to creep in...Swirling...Haunting...Terrifying.

Breathing. Ragged, listless, sinister breathing begin to radiate from the room.

And then...and then Bloody Mary appeared...

She staggered out of the room, her body lurching sharply in uncontrollable convulsions, her ashen gray feet, bony with hideously yellow nails that were brittle and cracking, scraped across the floor as she dragged her feet. She was hunched over, her shoulders drooping, her arms hanging lifeless by her sides as her head fell forward, the long strands of black hair covering her face from view.

"Why?" Her hollow voice was like an ominous whisper, making the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck to stand on end. "Why do you mock me so?"

"W-we didn't..." Alfred murmured as he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief, though his unblinking eyes never leaving her for a moment.

Her body convulsed violently and she reeled her head back painfully, her back arching at an inhumane angle, her arms and hands stiffening as she clawed at the air. Her head then lolled to the side, her hair parting to reveal one blackened eye – so intense and murderous.

"Shit!" Alfred cursed aloud as he fiddled with his phone. "Find the light switch! I'm going to call Arthur!"

"Come on," he urged under his breath. Finally, there was a beep, signalling to him that Arthur had finally answered his call. Without waiting to hear Arthur's voice, Alfred simply yelled into the phone, his fear and urgency pungent and strong. "Arthur!"

He received a few spluttering words of concern in reply and soon he was babbling everything into his phone. He doesn't quite remember or know what he was saying exactly he just wanted Arthur to be here, right now.

He only paid minimal attention to Arthur on the phone, his attention being drawn to the lights that someone had finally managed to flick the switch. He expected Bloody Mary to disappear after that, but not a moment after the lights were on, the light bulb literally sparked before flickering out altogether.

"The light bulbs just blew?" Alfred murmured in disbelief before his fear returned ten-fold. "Why isn't the light holding her back? I thought that as soon as you turn the lights on she'd disappear!"

"It's going to take more than a flick of a switch to get rid of a vengeful ghost, Alfred," Arthur chided in his ear before his tone quickly turned into pleading. "Please tell me you didn't mock her."

"Ah... Francis said it was the only way!"

"You don't mock the dead!"

Alfred knew that. Oh, how he knew that now.

Before Alfred could say anything else, an ear piercing scream caused him to whip around, his heart thundering in his chest as that scream didn't sound like Bloody Mary. It sounded human.

"S-she's got Francis!"

Francis had been cornered by Bloody Mary, her ghastly hands encircling around his throat! Matthew and Peter were a few feet behind him, clutching onto one another as expression of absolute fear on their far too pale faces.

"Hey!" Gilbert yelled suddenly, boldly springing forward in an attempt to pry off Bloody Mary's hands from Francis' throat, the Frenchman literally gasping for air. "Let go!"

"Francis!" Matthew cried out as he held Peter closer, tears springing in his eyes.

Bloody Mary let her head roll back, lolling to the side to stare up at Gilbert, her beady black eyes seemingly staring into his very soul, causing Gilbert to flinch under her steely gaze. She then opened her blacken and charred mouth to emit a blood-curdling scream, screaming right into his face.

Gilbert released a cry of surprise when he suddenly found himself thrown back by an unseen force, stumbling backwards a few feet before crashing to the floor with a thud, sitting there in stunned disbelief.

"Gilbert!"

"Join me," Bloody Mary murmured with a voice both malicious and woeful as he head lolled toward Francis again. "Join me in death."

Momentarily forgetting who or what he was actually dealing with, Alfred went into Hero mode again by throwing himself into the fray, resting his phone in the crook of his shoulder and his ear, his two hands landing on Bloody Mary's wrists.

Oh god...

Alfred felt sick to his stomach. He could feel Bloody Mary's bony arms and broken, charred skin under his hands, and it was cold – deathly ice cold! It was an empty chillness that went right through you.

He had never felt anything like it before.

"Shit!" Alfred cursed as he tried to physically remove Bloody Mary's grip from Francis' throat, the other blond turning a deathly gray with each passing second. But he couldn't even force her to falter in her grip. "She's strong..."

"Let me show you the pain," Bloody Mary continued to murmur. "The suffering I had to endure."

Realizing that what he was doing was not helping in any way, shape or form, Alfred relinquished his hold and took a step back, clutching at his phone like a lifeline as a sense of helplessness fell over him. "Arthur, what do I do! She's going to kill him!"

There was a brief sigh of relief from Arthur's end before his voice, crisp and clear, radiated through the phone. "Alfred, I need you to listen to me and to trust me! I'm going to be there as soon as I can, so until then I'm going to tell you a Protection Spell. I want you to use it to get her away from Francis, ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Alfred stuttered. He was not entire sure what a Protection Spell was, but he trusted Arthur to do whatever he tells him to do. Arthur warned him of this, he knew what Bloody Mary was capable of and, hopefully, he knew what to do to get rid of her!

"Now, repeat everything I say."

"Right," Alfred nodded sharply, even though he knew Arthur could not see him physically. And as instructed, Arthur's clear voice almost like the fluttering of angel wings calmed him and he repeated everything Arthur told him.

" _By the fairies light._

_On this February night,_

_I call to thee,_

_To give me your might,_

_By the power of three,_

_I conjure thee,_

_To protect all,_

_That surrounds me,_

_So mote it be,_

_So mote it be!"_

The reaction he received the very second he finished uttering those words was sudden and surprising.

Alfred physically jumped when a blinding light seemed to flash before his eyes and again when the bloodied woman let out an inhuman shriek; promptly letting Francis' free from her claw like fingers before she was practically thrown away by some unseen force. She fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing once again before she hissed and scurried away, slinking back into the darkness of the bathroom as if she was in great pain. But she stayed within sight, her ashen gray face peering hatefully through the darkness.

Clearly, she wasn't going to leave yet.

But...What just happened? Did Alfred just use a spell? And it actually worked?

Francis, however, pulled him back to the...ah, reality of the situation when he made a gasping noise, his hands encircling his neck as he coughed and spluttered a few times, almost retching as he struggled for air.

Without a second thought, Alfred grabbed Francis by the arm and yanked him back, quite literally throwing him into Gilbert, who caught him with a bewildered expression on his pale face.

"Let's go!" Alfred ordered as he hoisted a frightened Peter under his arm, snaring his brother's wrist with his other hand, all but dragging him toward the front of hotel suite.

He then dumped Peter onto a sofa chair near the front door, let go of Matthew's hand and then, just as Gilbert and Francis stumbled in behind him, Alfred closed the door leading to the rest of the suite with a forceful bang, but he knew that wasn't enough. So, he pushed over one of the decorative book cases, letting it landed with a loud and deafening crash, just in front of the door way, successfully blocking it.

"Hopefully that will hold her off for long enough until Arthur can get here!"

And he hoped Arthur would get here quick! She was really pissed off now!


	8. Chapter 7

The only thing Alfred could hear at the moment was the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his chest, his breathes coming in short, ragged gasps. Everyone and every _thing_ else was silent.

But it was an oppressed kind of silence. He didn't like it.

She was still in there...somewhere.

He could feel her. He could smell her. It was like burning flesh and rotting skin; it was making him feel sick, nauseated. He also felt cold, but was sweating at the same time. Was this what it was like when they say they broke out into a cold sweat?

He had goosebumps on his arms and a prickly feeling on the back of his neck, making his insides clench, his hands shake. And his mind was disjointed; he didn't know what was going on. It didn't make any sense. This shouldn't be happening...this shouldn't be real.

Ghost weren't real! They couldn't be!

Alfred physically jumped when a woman's painful cry pierced the air, quite literally forcing him to take a couple of shaky steps away from the barricaded door. He had seen this scene countless times before in all those horror movies he had watched. Any second now a bloody arm will come spearing through the door, tearing at the wood, breaking it to pieces, clawing closer and closer...

But, they couldn't leave. Not when they were in a hotel, filled with other innocent and unknowing guests. They would all be in danger.

No, he had to find a way to keep her confined to this one apartment, so no one else would get hurt. But how...?

"Alfred!"

Again, Alfred jumped in fright, but soon an overwhelming feeling of recognition and relief wash over him. He knew that voice! Oh God, how he knew that sweet, sweet voice!

"Arthur!" Alfred yelled when a certain blond-haired Englishman appeared in the threshold of the front door entrance, holding onto the door frame as he panted for air. It was like he literally ran all the way here. "You're here!"

Arthur snapped his head up at the sound of Alfred's voice, his green eyes widening with fear, no doubt immediately spying the sliver of blood that was seeping from the wound on his forehead. His expression soon creased into a look of frantic relief before he then practically threw himself inside the room using the door frame as leverage. Alfred met him half-way and pulled him into a hug, one of which Arthur immediately returned, the two of them clinging onto one another for safety and reassurance.

Alfred wrapped his arms tightly around Arthur's slender frame, threading his fingers through his short blond hair as Arthur pressed his face into his shoulder, his hands grasping tightly onto the back of his bomber jacket.

_He's here_ , Alfred thought with a sense of utter relief as he pressed his cheek into Arthur's hair.

Oh God, Arthur was here! It would be ok now. Everything was going to be ok!

Finally, Arthur forced them to part, but not by much. He still stood chest to chest to him as he placed both hands on the sides of Alfred's face, his eyes searching frantically over his face for any more injuries while inspecting the one already there. "Alfred, you're hurt."

"It's nothing," Alfred responded, his hand moving to touch the wound with his finger tips. "It doesn't even hurt."

"Stupid Git," Arthur scolded as he removed one of his hands, plunging into the pocket of his jeans (Jeans? Alfred didn't even know Arthur possessed a pair of jeans!) and pulling out a white handkerchief. He then unfurled it to reveal how big it was before folding it a couple of times and then placing it carefully against Alfred's forehead, wrapping it tightly around his head like a bandage. And Alfred let him, his hands resting on Arthur's sides, content to simple feel him there.

"Where is she?" Arthur asked after he finished tying off the makeshift bandage, his eyes darting cautiously around the room, pulling Alfred back to the severity of the situation.

"Still inside," Alfred said as he motioned toward the barricaded door with a tilt of his head, finally removing his hands. "I can't hear anything at the moment though."

Arthur nodded, his green eyes staring at the door, his brow furrowed. "Where are the others you spoke of?"

"Jerk-Arthur!"

With eyes wide, Arthur whipped around toward the source of the voice and was immediately tackled around the waist, a certain micro-nation trembling against him. "Peter?" he cried out as his arms immediately wrapped around the smaller boy, his voice half angry, half concerned. "You're here, too?"

"Hey Artie!" That caused Arthur to snap his head up in recognition of the familiar accent, his gaze immediately falling upon the three others, two blond nations and one silver-hair ex-nation.

"About time you showed up," Gilbert said as he hovered near Francis, who was sitting on the couch rather haphazardly.

Behind him stood Matthew, pale and trembling. "Hey..." he said with a very shaky smile.

"Shame about the circumstances, mon cher Angleterre," Francis greeted, his voice rather croaky (because he's a frog! Hahaha!) and it seemed painful to talk.

Still holding Peter close against him, Arthur made his way over to the others, his thick brows furrowed as he cast a quick, but searching gaze over them. Those eyes could never miss a trick. "Is this everyone?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered.

"Francis?"

"It's fine, mon ami," Francis said with a grimacing smile, pressing a cloth against his throat with one hand as he waved to Arthur with the other, trying to appear as suave as he usually was. "Just a mere scratch."

Arthur, however, wasn't going to be convinced with words alone. "Let me see," he demanded, momentarily handing Peter over to Matthew as he moved to get a closer look.

"Non," Francis tried to protest. "It's fine."

One piercing look from Arthur, however, and he relented, not wanting to cause himself any further injury by arguing with the Brit – especially when he was in a rather infamous 'mother-hen' mode.

"Bloody Frog," Arthur muttered under his breath followed by a few curses that were all directed at the Frenchman. "I'll lecture you about respecting the dead later."

It was only then, when Arthur pulled the clothe away that Alfred realised that Francis was bleeding from long, thin gashes in his neck. Fingernail marks?

"Just make sure it doesn't get infected; we'll clean it up later," Arthur said after a moment as he pressed the cloth back against Francis' neck with a frown, covering up the wound again. He stood up straight and walked toward the centre of the room, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm going to perform another Protection Spell," he announced. "This will ensure she never leaves this room. My spell book, please."

Alfred blinked, wondering if Arthur was talking to him when he made that request. But as he opened his mouth to tell him he didn't have his spell book, an ancient leather bound book seemed to float mysteriously across the room.

Wah, not more ghosts!

However, as he watched as Arthur lifted his hands to take the book, he saw soft, shimmering lights. They were gentle, almost unseen, like glitter raining down from the sky; soft and subtle. Narrowing his eyes to peer closer, strangely not feeling all that frightened as he did with Bloody Mary, he begin to make out shapes within the soft lights...

I couldn't be...

"F-fairies?" he spluttered meekly.

Lifting his gaze from his book he was flipping through, Arthur immediately turned to Alfred, his green eyes wide in surprise. However, they soon soften and he smiled gently, raising a hand to allow a fairy dressed in what appeared to be from the petals of a yellow flower to rest in the palm of his hand, her pretty butterfly wings fluttering tenderly behind her back.

Holy crap, dude, fairies were real as well?

"Ah, so you can see them now?" Arthur queried, tilting his head to the side before looking around the room to note that others were all staring at him with unblinking eyes as well. "Yes, they will help protect everyone. It'll be alright now."

Alfred's first instinct was to state that fairies weren't real, but with a vengeful and murderous ghost of a dead English Queen terrorizing him in his hotel room, those words had lost all meaning to him now.

So, right now, he was going to belt up and do whatever Arthur told him to do. He'll think about this logically later.

Dude, if they get out of this alive, he was never going to make fun of Arthur's invisible friends ever again!

"Ready, Dandelion?" Arthur asked as he moved to stand in the middle of the room, facing the door that was the only barrier between them and Bloody Mary.

"Loving protection guides you now, Arthur," the yellow fairy whispered in reply.

Closing his eyes, Arthur drew in a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as the fairy called Dandelion fluttered above his head. "I am protected by your might, O gracious Fae, day and night. Thrice around the circle's bound, Evil sink into the ground."

As Arthur began to speak, his voice level and firm, yet surprisingly tender as the same time, a circle of what appeared to be glittering fairy dust encircled him. Then, a light breeze picked up, caressing his hair, making it appear to float majestically as the ancient chant tumble effortlessly from his lips.

"In the centre of the darkest storm, is a brilliant rainbow, bright and warm. Look past the darkness that you see, there's more than what you think might be. There now is freedom, so you can find the path to stimulate your mind. So don't despair, let hope shine bright, the sun will rise, just past the night. So mote it be, So mote it be."

As the shimmering lights that surrounded Arthur fade away, the oppressing atmosphere lifted a little, making it seem easier to breath.

But...as a shriek of pain cut through the silence like a blade, they couldn't breathe easy yet.

"What are we going to do now?" Matthew asked meekly, his arms folded tightly around himself in a hug.

That...that was a good question...


	9. Chapter 8

As he was flicking through his spell book, Arthur's mind was reeling as what to do next. Protection Spells were all well and good, but he preferred to get rid of the threat of Bloody Mary entirely.

His banishing spells wouldn't work here; they all require specialised herbs, oils and tools of Divination, of which he didn't have the time to locate and prepare before arriving here and he couldn't risk slipping out now to gather them. He needed to find another way to get Bloody Mary back into her mirror. Or at least find a way to seal her into another inanimate object. Or...

Maybe...

Arthur licked his lips nervously. There might be a way to release Bloody Mary from her eternal torture. It would be tricky and it could potentially blow up in his face, but as he remembered the way the blood dripped down the side of Alfred's face from the cut on his forehead when he first saw him, the way poor Peter was now shaking with fear in an equally scared Matthew's arms and the way an uncharacteristically silent Gilbert was currently trying to aid with the injury on Francis' neck, he didn't see much choice in the matter.

If he didn't act soon and do something...

Someone could very well die.

Ok, no choice...

"The mirror," Arthur said as he turned to Alfred, mildly aware that everyone was focusing in on him again. "Where is the mirror from which she came?"

Alfred looked positively baffled, tilting his head to the side and blinking rather blankly at him. "What?"

Arthur couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes toward the ceiling. "The mirror you used to call her, you git!"

Still not catching on, Alfred simply stared at him. "Why?"

"Listen," Arthur said after drawing in a deep breath; he'll have to make this explanation as brief as possible, they don't have time for any details. "It is believed that when a person dies, their soul wanders from their physical body and if there were any mirrors where the soul had been torn from the body, it can become trapped within the mirror itself."

He could still recall all the times where he had been at the bedside of those who are sick, injured and/or dying and having to cover all the mirrors within the vicinity with darken clothe to reduce the risk of them becoming trapped. He had also tried his best to make their passing as smooth as possible so no ill resentment would prevent them from finding their peace.

So, he had to find a way to free Queen Mary from her curse...one way or another.

"This wounded soul is connected to the mirror," Arthur continued with his explanation. "So, if we break the mirror, we break the soul connected to it."

There was silence as his fellow nations took a moment to allow this to fully sink in and he received a couple of slow, hesitant, but somewhat understanding nods.

"But, isn't breaking a mirror meant to bring seven years bad luck?" Alfred asked, a frown marring his features.

Yes, that was also a very strong belief, but as of right now, it was the lesser of two evils.

So Arthur gave him a pointed look. "Which do you prefer, Alfred?"

And as if Bloody Mary had been listening in and decided to make his point more potent, she let out a blood-curdling wail that made Alfred jump in fright.

"Fine, fine!" he said quickly, his voice high pitched with fright at first, but he soon cleared his throat, coughing to hide his fear from the others. "I really don't have any idea what the hell is going on here, but I trust you."

Arthur felt his heart-rate increase a little at the admission, but he soon pushed aside the flustered feeling; this was not the time to go all giddy!

"We need to get into the bathroom," Alfred said as he turned to the barricaded door, his hands on his hips as he scrutinized the bookcase. "That's where we performed the ritual."

"We?" Arthur had all the intention of going alone. Alfred was the one who summoned Bloody Mary and from what he had learnt from the past, he was the one Bloody Mary wanted to kill the most.

There was no way he was going to let her near _his_ Alfred!

"You're planning on breaking the mirror, right?" Alfred affirmed as he turned his attention back to Arthur. He then flashed him his patient Heroic smile, reminding him of the infuriating, disrespectful, intolerable but utterly loveable boy Arthur had always cared for. "You need someone strong and heroic to do that."

A small part of Arthur felt down-right miffed that Alfred was insinuating that he wasn't strong enough to break a bathroom mirror, but he held his tongue to prevent a snappy comeback. It made sense. Alfred was the one who summoned her, so he had to be the one to severe her ties to the mirror. And if Arthur made sure to put himself between Alfred and Bloody Mary, distracting her until Alfred completed his task, he should be fine.

What happened after that rested on Arthur alone.

"Right," Arthur said, no doubt startling the others by not erupting into a fight with Alfred – they don't fight all the time, thank you very much!

"We need to head straight to the bathroom," Arthur stated as he turned his attention back to his book. He needed a strong spell, the strongest he has. "We can't hesitate or dawdle in anyway."

"What about the others?" Alfred questioned as he jerked his head toward the others who were, unsurprisingly, subdued and quiet.

Arthur lifted his head to regard them for a moment, giving them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. They were all very frightened and needed reassurance. He'll have to wait to kick their asses for being so reckless later.

"Everyone will be safe as long as everyone stay here; the Protection Spell I just performed will keep you safe." His expression soon turned serious again, though. "Do not, under any circumstance, especially if you hear something, move past that door until I tell you to. I cannot protect you if you enter without me knowing."

Peter jumped away from Matthew to look up at him, his eyes watery with distress, his tiny hands closed into trembling fists. "But you can't go in there!"

"I have to," Arthur muttered after a sigh as he continued to flick through his book, Dandelion and Acacia hovering over his shoulders.

"No, Jerk-Arthur!" Peter yelled with frightened and angry tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "I don't want you to!"

Suddenly, Peter had his arms around Arthur in a hug, his face hidden in the thick material of his sweater. Though he was trembling, his grip was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

"P-Peter?" Arthur stuttered, dropping his spell book in surprise.

"Don't go," Peter muffled again him. "It's too dangerous."

To say Arthur was shocked was an understatement. But his expression and posture soon softened, his heart going out to the tiny country. He could feel him trembling; he was beyond frightened from this whole ordeal. Not that he could blame him, of course. The others dragged into this nightmare, all older and have been countries far long than Peter, were scared as well.

"Peter, listen to me," Arthur said with a motherly tenderness, placing his hands on Peter's shoulders. "I have to go. I'm the only one who knows how to banish her." He then knelt down to Peter's level to wipe away his frightened tears. "Hey now, it's alright. I promise that I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anyone else. That's what Nations do, after all."

"Yeah, nations," Peter sniffled, hastily scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his clothing. He then abruptly drew in a sharp breath and gave Arthur a pointedly determined look. "I'll be the strongest nation one day!"

Arthur gave a small smile as he ruffled the younger boy's hair. "Very well," he said before scooping his spell book up into his arms again and standing to his full height. As he stood, his gaze collided with that of Alfred's, who was looking at him with this...nostalgic expression, almost tender.

Arthur blushed lightly, snapping his gaze abruptly away as he coughed. "Right, let's get ready."

"What do I need to do?" Alfred questioned.

"All you need to do is to break the mirror," Arthur quickly informed him. "I'll take care of the rest."

"The rest?" Gilbert asked, having been surprisingly quiet for most of Arthur's arrival. "What exactly does this 'rest' involved?"

"That's for me to know," Arthur replied as he quickly flicked through his Spells book again. After flipping over a couple of well worn and yellowing pages, he paused, his green eyes sharply reading through the content before giving a sharp nod of his head. He then turned to Alfred, looking into his eyes to see the sky-blue darkened into a navy blue in serious determination.

They nodded to each other.

"Now, let's go."


	10. Chapter 9

"I'll deal with Bloody Mary," Arthur said as Alfred made the motion to remove the temporary barricade, the only thing between the vengeful ghost and her desire to claim yet more lives. "You focus on getting to the mirror."

"Ok," Alfred nodded as he placed his hands on the bookcase, hesitating for a moment as he turned to look at Arthur, his usually bright, carefree eyes dark and narrowed in determination. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"As of right now, we have no other option," Arthur muttered in reply as he tried to still his nerves. He gave Alfred this, what he hoped to be, confident grin, almost a smirk. "Don't worry, she'll be focusing her attention on me, so you'll be ok."

However, instead of reassuring the younger nation like he had intended, Alfred shot him this concerned yet utterly piercing look, his hands gripping tighter upon the fallen piece of furniture. "What about you?"

Arthur found himself rather startled by the intensity of Alfred's eyes. The lad was truly worried about him. It was...sweet. Absolutely not necessary, mind you, but sweet.

"I'll be fine," he answered soothingly. "I have the fairies watching over me."

A beat passed with the two of them staring into each other's eyes again before Alfred reluctantly nodded, and without much effort, lifted the bookcase and set it aside.

Alfred grabbed his hand, holding it tightly within his, and Arthur made no objections. In fact, he gave his hand a squeeze, letting Alfred know that he was there, right there behind him. He wasn't going anywhere.

They uttered not a sound as they stepped into the darkness, the only source of light illuminating from the corridor outside the hotel room. But the room was quickly plunged into true darkness when the dividing door closed behind them with a soft click.

Their senses were heightened, their eyes trying to adjust to the inky blackness that had fallen over the room as quickly as possible. It was almost as if a dense fog –thick, ominous- had descended. Arthur didn't want to think of that cliché saying of things being _too_ quiet, but it truly was. It was as if something was covering his ears. Not a sound from the outside, not even a creak or a tap as they walked across the floor. He couldn't even hear if the others who were merely a room away.

Feeling Alfred's grip on his hand tighten, Arthur squeezed back, moving closer to him. He didn't like it. Even with the fairies by his side, he too must admit that this oppression was overwhelming. Fear. Sorrow. Despair. Pain, oh God, the _**pain**_. He felt it, sensed it, as it washed over him like a winter chill.

She was in there... _somewhere_.

With his hand on the wall for guidance, Alfred led him in the direction of the bathroom. Their first intention was to move quickly, but within the dense darkness, they would not risk possible injury or even running into Bloody Mary; they had to go slow.

Alfred, however, suddenly stopped and tugged at Arthur's hand to gain his attention. "This is it," he said with a low voice. "This is the mirror."

"Good," Arthur breathed, relieved that they hadn't encountered Bloody Mary yet. "Now, break the mirror when I tell you to. How are you going to break it?"

"Just leave that to me," Alfred simply replied. "You concentrate on...whatever it is that you do."

Arthur felt a wry smile touch his lips. Even after all what he had been through, he still refused to even say the word magic. He'd make a believer out of him yet.

Before Arthur could make a reply, a sharp noise caught his attention and he snapped his gaze toward what he thought was the origin of the sound. And from the way he felt Alfred wince, he knew that Bloody Mary was finally reappearing.

A reverberation of a footstep. A wisp of a voice; low and scratchy.

_Why?_

From the shadows a figure emerged slowly. At first it appeared as if it was a gray wisp of smoke; fleeting and quick. But soon, it formed into an outline of a hunched over figure.

A laugh followed; abrasive and short, mirthless and hollow. Like a chuckle of insanity.

If the moment were that of a cheesy horror film, a bolt of lightning would suddenly flash, lightening her hunched frame as an ominous shadow. But it wasn't a horror film and it wasn't necessary; he could see her well enough. Her bony frame covered in a white dress that was tattered with jagged rips and tears, singed and covered in dry flakes of a reddish substance. Blood, most likely; blood of her own and those she _murdered_.

Arthur wasn't afraid. He simply stared at her for a moment, unflinching as she slowly advanced upon them, taking slow, unsteady steps. Every step was painful, her body convulsing in unnatural ways as her head lolled and rolled, barely supported...as if her neck had been broken.

It was time.

"Go," Arthur whispered into Alfred's ear as he momentarily pressed himself against his back, giving his hand yet another reassuring squeeze. "Into the bathroom. Break the mirror when I tell you. I'll take it from here."

Finally tearing his eyes away from the dreaded figure before him, Alfred turned to look at him. Even in this darkness, his eyes were luminescent, wide and clear. He was unwilling to part from him, he could tell by his eyes. He wanted to be the hero, he felt as though he should be the one protecting _him_.

What a silly boy.

"Go," Arthur whispered again, giving him a nudge with his shoulder as he looked into his eyes. "I promise I'll come back to you."

Alfred was still unwilling to let go, but...he did. He released his grip of Arthur's hand, ducking off quickly to the side into the darkened bathroom vanity. Moving as suddenly and quickly as Alfred had done, Arthur lifted up his spell book and flipped it open to the page of his chosen spell.

"So," Arthur said in a rather hollow tone of voice as he tilted his head to the side to regard her with calm eyes. "This is where you are."

Bloody Mary continued to approach him as her slow and painful pace, each stagger prolonged and agonizing. "I had everything; I was the woman everyone wanted to be. But it was taken away...they mocked me, they tortured me. Why? Why?" She kept repeating. "Why?"

Allowing his eyes to briefly shut, Arthur drew in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a moment before exhaling through his mouth. Remain calm, emotionless but sincere and respectful. Be firm, be strong. Do not be afraid. Do not feel fear. Do not feel pity.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said as he opened his eyes, his face passive yet determination shone in his eyes.

Arching her back, Bloody Mary released yet another painful shrill. "Why did you do this to me?"

"I'm sorry, I do not wish to do this, but your evil presence gives me no choice," Arthur said as he took a step forward, placing himself purposely between Alfred and Bloody Mary.

The horror will end.

"Acacia," Arthur called for his fairy friend. "I want you to protect Alfred."

A shimmer of pink appeared momentarily to his side. "Right!" a sweet voice chimed before a sprinkling trail of fairy dust flew into the bathroom, giving off a gentle, protective light upon doing so.

"Now Alfred," Arthur yelled. "Break the mirror and then get out of the way!"

"Right!" Alfred called out in reply. And not a moment later, the high-pitch sound of breaking glass shattered the stillness of the room.

"Dandelion, come to me; carry my voice to the ones I seek," Arthur requested.

"We can hear you, Arthur," Dandelion whispered to him as she once again fluttered gently above his head, her tiny arms out before her in a welcoming motion. "We are with you."

"Yes, I can feel you," Arthur breathed as a smile appeared briefly on his lips. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes."

As the sound of breaking glass tinkled upon the tiled flooring, shattering with a crystal ring, a scream –terrifying, agonizing, excruciating and ghostly- pierced through the air. It didn't sound like it came from Bloody Mary, who were but a mere few feet before him, but from everywhere in the room. It was truly unworldly.

It was the sign that her bindings to the mirror had been severed.

It was time for him to act.

Lifting his book in his left hand, Arthur threw out his right arm into the air beside him, invoking an emerald green circle of magical protection to glow around his feet. "Hear me knights of past, Knights of the ancient law. Hear me dead knights of an English tongue. Hear me knights lost in battle, who's blade did good. Hear me knights of old, hear me knights of lost souls. This night I invoke thee. I summon thee to my arms aid."

A guttural wail of pain echoed through the room, Bloody Mary seizing in suffering. She was screaming incoherently as she crumbled to the floor, a withering mess of twitching limps.

The light encircling Arthur's feet grew in brightness, a gentle spiritual wind surrounding him, playing with his hair to dance before his eyes that shimmered like exotic emeralds.

"Hear me knights, a new cause be given. Your body gone now spirit be. Hear me Dead Knights I invoke thee. By your spirit blade I invoke you. By your might I invoke you. By your spirit I invoke you. Come now, follow a new cause, I summon thee. Each of thee I enlist. I invoke you dead knights lost. Hear me and come to my aid. Hear me and fight at my side. Protect me from spirits harm. Fight my battles I say to thee. Hear me Spirits of lost knights, come to my aid, come to my side. Protect me from spirits harm. Protect me from spirits might. I invoke you. I invoke you. I invoke you."

An overwhelming feeling of unity washed over Arthur as he continued his spell, the words falling from his lips effortlessly, the book once heavy in his hand now floating freely, the pages fluttering in the magical wind. He felt the souls he had known, had fought alongside with touch his very spirit. The noblest of knights now surrounded him, protecting him, guarding him with their strengths to end the nightmare of Bloody Mary once and for all. "Let my army be done. Let it be. Let it be."

Bloody Mary was no longer screaming, but she was still withering on the floor, on her knees with her forehead pressed against the hard floor, her hands desperately pulling at her hair.

Just a little more.

As Arthur moved, his spell circled moved with him, the breeze still encircling him. Each step he took was unfaltering and strong. He would see it through to the end.

"May the light that shines from deep inside, flow ever out and never hide. May the shining light within my soul, heal me now, and make me whole. May the light that shines so very bright, help heal Queen Mary the First, on this night. May the shining light within my core; bring peace and love, forever more."

Arthur then reached forward with his hand and...gently placed it upon Bloody Mary's head. He then knelt upon his knees before her as though she was but a child, a tender look of sincerity softening his features.

"It is time to move on now, Queen Mary," he said with kindness. "You no longer need to reside in pain. Go now; your beloved ones are waiting for you."

Fairy Dandelion flew over to Bloody Mary, a warm glow emitting from her presence. "Come into the light, beloved child," she enchanted. "We have been waiting."

"Find your peace," Arthur said with a small nod of his head as he removed his hand from upon Bloody Mary's head.

No, she was not Bloody Mary anymore. She was just Mary, a tortured soul put to rest at last.

Slowly, Mary lifted her head. Gone are the jagged scars of ripped skin and burnt flesh, gone are the empty eyes of darkness. A waif of a woman, petite and worn, now sat before him. An expression of gratitude now replaced the pain. "Thank you," she whispered softly.

A brilliant glow filled the room, bathing Mary in its gentle light. She welcomed this, her eyes slipping close and her head rolling back, her arms outstretched. Slowly, she faded away with an expression of peace of finally being free.

And then...she was gone, the room falling back into the blackness of night. Though it was dark, the negativity of oppression was gone...completely and utterly now.

It was over.

Pushing himself from his knees and turning around, Arthur's gaze immediately collided with that of Alfred's, the other blond standing a few feet behind him with his hand clutching a towel, a thing he probably used to aid him in breaking the mirror. Figures he's just punch it. The younger nation was staring, however, just staring at him in complete bewilderment. It was as if he couldn't quite believe what he had witnessed, couldn't comprehend what had happened.

The corners of Arthur's lips twitched into a small smile. About time the bloody Git realized how amazing his spiritual gifts truly were. Pity it had to take summoning a murderous spirit to do so.

Stupid Yank always had to learn the hard way.

"It...it is done," Arthur said to the very much stunned America. "She's gone now. You can tell the others to come out now."

Alfred didn't move, he just stood there, staring...unblinkingly. Then, almost as if a switch had been flicked, a bright smile grew upon his lips and all but threw himself at Arthur, throwing his arms around him in a boisterous hug. He was so enthusiastic in his hug that he almost crushed Arthur up against his chest as they stumble from the sudden force, Arthur dropping his book in the process.

"Arthur! That was-! You were-!" he was literally incoherent with relief and admiration. "I mean, you were amazing! Like a superhero or something!"

A warmth immediately flared across Arthur's cheeks as the unusual amount of praise he had just received. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Though a part of him was feeling smug that he had finally received a compliment, he also felt embarrassed. "Q-quite..."

He then abruptly felt heavy in the head, a pulsating headache rearing up so suddenly that it made his sight blur significant and the room seemed to be closing in on him. Everything was starting to go gray, his other senses leaving him as well. He soon found himself slumping against Alfred, his legs felt unsteady and were no longer able to support his full weight.

A noise of surprise was heard and Alfred tightened his grip he had around him. "Artie?"

Alfred...? His voice sounded so far away and yet...Oh, bollocks. T-that took a lot more energy than he had anticipated...

"Arthur!"


	11. Chapter 10

"Artie?"

Something was totally wrong. Why wasn't he-?

"Hey!" Alfred yelled, startled when Arthur unexpected slumped against him, literally falling limp in his arms, his cheek resting against his shoulder. There wasn't much of a warning. One second Arthur was talking to him and then the next he just went boneless. "Arthur?"

Immediately wrapping his arms around the skinny Brit, Alfred sunk down to kneel on the floor. He cradled Arthur against his chest with an arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his concern growing when Arthur's head just lolled back to rest on his shoulder, lips parted and eyes tightly shut.

Alfred's immediately response was to check his breathing, angling his head to hear and feel whether or not Arthur was indeed breathing. Thankfully, he could feel the light puff of air against his cheek and he breathed a sigh of relief of his own.

Good, it meant that he was still alive. Sure, his breath was a little bit laboured, but he was breathing, so that was all that mattered.

"Hey, Arthur!" he tried again, lifting his other hand to gently pat the side of his face in an attempt to rouse him. He had done this very thing many a time in the past when he was still a small colony, climbing into Arthur's bed early in the mornings to wake him up. All it took back then was a poke or a tap to rouse Arthur from his slumber, his large, fuzzy eyebrows furrowing briefly before blinking open his eyes. And then he would smile at him, greeting him with a good morning...

But now he received no response, not a twitch or a furrowing of his large brows. Nothing.

So, naturally, panic was really starting to set in. Just what was wrong with him? Did Bloody Mary do something? Did a spell go wrong? Did it not work the way it was suppose to? Why won't he wake up?

Not giving much thought to his actions at all, Alfred grabbed the tiny pink fairy that was hovering beside him in his large hand. "Can't you do something? Help him!"

Little Acacia squeaked and immediately began to squirm in his grip. "D-don't s-shake m-me!"

Alfred wasn't listening as she didn't say anything he wanted or needed to hear. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know!" she squeaked back in reply, her voice rather high-pitched with strain.

Alfred was about to demand how she didn't know when the other fairy, the one who had assisted Arthur with his spells shimmered in from the corner of his eye.

"Dearest Arthur is merely resting, child," Fairy Dandelion explained to him as she floated before his face, her tiny hand touching his nose, causing Alfred to literally go cross eyed to look at her. "Performing such a powerful protection spell and then a purifying spell one after the other is very draining."

Alfred released Fairy Acacia from his grip, the tiny fairy dropping to the floor with a light thump, appearing dazed and confused as she gasped for air. Alfred didn't notice this, however, as his attention was immediately focusing upon the older nation lying peacefully in his arms. His scowl and frown were gone, the lines and wrinkles from years and years of turmoil had smoothen out. Arthur had a rather _feminine_ face now that his expression wasn't creased in his usually defensive and guarded look.

It...it really had been _years_ since he had seen Arthur this truly serene.

"He'll be all right though?" Alfred asked, gently brushing aside a strand of hair that had fallen across Arthur's temple.

"Yes," Dandelion said with a rather motherly chuckle. "There is nothing more that we can do here. We best take our leave. We will leave Arthur in your hands. Take care of him well."

Turning his gaze away momentary, Alfred found himself blinking at the two fairies, noting that they had Arthur's spell book. "Ah, sure."

And then, in a shimmering shower of light, they were gone.

...Did they do that often? Literally appearing and disappearing in a sparkle of lights? Dude, that will definitely take some getting used to.

"A-Alfred? Arthur?"

Oh right, the others were still in the hotel room with them.

Alfred quickly and effortlessly gathered Arthur up in his arms, choosing to ignore how light Arthur felt for the time being and preceded to carry him back to the others. There was little doubt that they were frantic to know what was happening, or rather, what had just happened.

And that was a question Alfred wasn't sure he could answer, to be perfectly honest. Ghosts, fairies, magic...it went over his head.

"I'm here," Alfred announced as he kicked open the dividing door, stepping through the threshold sideways to be careful not to accidentally injure the precious cargo in his arms and walked toward the couch.

"Arthur!" Matthew immediately exclaimed in alarm, the others around him echoing his sentiments. "What happened?"

As Francis picked himself up off the couch, Alfred moved through the small group and gently laid Arthur down, carefully placing his head on a pillow. "I dunno. He just...fainted, or something."

Just as Alfred placed Arthur's head against the pillow and was in the process of removing his hand from the back of Arthur's neck, a small moan was heard. Alfred stilled, his blue eyes staring down at Arthur's face. "Arthur?"

His brows abruptly furrowed.

And Alfred smiled widely in relief. That was indeed a good sign and he knew exactly what was needed to obtain a response from him.

"Iggy!"

Immediately, one of Arthur's eyes blearily opened, giving Alfred a rather poor attempt at a glare.

"Don't call me that," he hissed before he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, lifting a hand to touch his forehead with his fingertips, something he did, Alfred noted over the years, when he was suffering from a headache. "Git."

Alfred had never been so relieved to hear that word.

"Do you have a headache, Artie?" Alfred asked as he knelt down on the floor next to the couch, all but forgetting about the others' company. All he could focus on was Arthur.

Lolling his head to the side to look at him, Arthur's eyes fluttered open and he appeared unfocused. "I-I'm...alright," he muttered after a moment, his brow still furrowed in discomfort. "Just...tired."

Suddenly, Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's forehead, his slender fingers brushing against the makeshift bandage. "Come, we need to look at your injury."

Alfred immediately brushed his hand aside, resisting the urge to snort at him for thinking his mild abrasion (a lucky shot, 'tis all) was worse than him keeling over in a faint. "I'll take care of that later. Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine,"

"Are you sure?" Alfred asked again as he helped him into a sitting position.

"Oh, stop fussing," Arthur snapped with noticeably less venom than usual. "I'm a nation, for heaven's sake, boy. I am and will be fine. That injury of yours, however, needs proper cleaning so it doesn't get infected."

_Stubborn old man_ , Alfred couldn't help but think fondly as Arthur pushed himself to his feet. Still, he stayed close just in case Arthur fainted again, placing a hand on his back to steady him.

"What happened to...?" Matthew began to ask the question on everyone's lips.

"She's been moved on," Arthur replied with a satisfied and triumphant smile. "She won't be summoned again."

"So, you sent her to the light, or something?" Gilbert elaborated just to make sure.

Arthur nodded. "That's right. She's gone now, this place is safe."

Matthew couldn't help looking over his shoulder, however. "Are you sure?"

"S-she really won't come back?" Peter also asked.

"Yes," Arthur said stressed. "She _**won't**_ come back."

They still didn't look all that convinced and to be frank Alfred wasn't all that reassured either. Sure, he had seen her...go to the light, but, well...as if he was going to sleep here tonight after what had happened! How could he be sure something else didn't come out of the mirror when he wasn't looking? You'd be crazy to stay in the room alone!

Arthur glared at everyone for a moment, trying to look irritated that they didn't believe him. But his expression soon softened and he rolled his eyes, sighing in mocked exasperation. "Ok, ok, everyone can stay at my place tonight."

Pfft! As if Alfred was going to ask for permission, anyway.

"Bags sleeping in Artie's bed!" Alfred announced as they began to pile out of the trashed hotel room.

"B-bleeding Git!" Arthur spluttered. "You're getting the couch!"

"Aw, no fair!"


	12. Chapter 11

Alfred was on the couch.

And not because Arthur had banished him there like he said he would, surprisingly. But, he didn't quite get Arthur's bed either. Peter had latched himself to Arthur and didn't want to be left alone, Arthur allowing the micro-nation to cling onto his arm without much of a complaint. Only a bit of grousing about how much of an inconvenience the whole thing was.

Arthur wouldn't be Arthur without a bit of grumbling, right?

So why Alfred was on the couch was fairly simple; he couldn't sleep.

Not much of a surprise, huh? Every time he closed his eyes he could see that swirling black mist, those ragged red lines on pasty white skin. He could still smell that rankness of death and blood.

Bloody Mary's face when she first appeared was an image that would stay with Alfred for some time, probably.

But there was another sight that will probably never leave either. And he didn't want it to.

Arthur was amazing.

There was no other way to describe him and what he did tonight. The bravery he showed in the way he faced off against a wailing ghost that was covered in blood, approaching her with unwavering steps. And his generosity in the way he helped her to move on with his merciful and kind words. His eyes were so gentle, his smile soft and loving as he released her from this earthy plain, wishing her well. Wishing her peace.

He looked so kind.

He looked so...beautiful.

"Alfred?"

Alfred finally removed his gaze from the world outside the window, turning his head toward the sound of the voice. He then stood up from his seat, turning to fully face Arthur, who was lingering a few feet behind the couch he had been sitting on. They stared at each other for a few silent moments before Alfred broke the tension with a weary smile.

"Hey, couldn't sleep," he simply said.

Arthur made a little humming noise as he nodded his head in both understanding and agreement.

"I've finally managed to get Peter to sleep," Arthur informed him as he approached, his socked feet moving soundlessly across the carpeted floor.

Alfred winced noticeably when he thought about the youngest member, remembering how pale he had been throughout the night and how he was literally trembling with fear as he clung onto whoever would hold him. The poor little guy would probably be traumatised for years to come.

And it was his fault.

Alfred lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck in a manner that could only be described as ashamed. "This would probably be a good opportunity to say 'I told you so'."

"That it would," Arthur agreed as he folded his arms across his stomach as he shifted from one foot to the other. "But that wouldn't achieve anything now, would it?"

Well, yeah, that was probably true.

"You were amazing tonight, Arthur."

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise as a deep red blush flared across his cheeks. "N-no, that was nothing!"

Alfred hadn't meant to say that out-loud, but he couldn't stop himself from giving a boyish grin nonetheless. Typical Artie; could never take a compliment without spluttering and blushing.

"No, you were," Alfred insisted. "Weren't you scared?"

"Of course not!" Arthur scoffed, sticking his chin out in defiance, a look that failed somewhat due to the blush that lingered on his porcelain features. "I've done this many a time in my life."

Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow. "Not even remotely scared?"

"Didn't I already answer that question?" Arthur snapped at him.

Alfred just continued to stare at him, his blue eyes sharply intense, seemingly searing into his very soul. And Arthur's expression and demeanour softened.

"Y-you...Of course I was scared, you git," he finally admitted as he closed the distance between them by taking the steps necessary to stand right in front of Alfred. "Scared that you could have gotten hurt," he whispered as he lifted his hand to allow his fingertips to brush against the white bandaged setting starkly against Alfred's tanned skin. "Scared that I could have lost you."

"Arthur..."

The next thing either of them knew was that Alfred had wrapped his arms tightly around Arthur in an almost desperate hug, his face buried in the crook of Arthur's neck. Arthur was, unsurprisingly, startled by the sudden contact and had stiffened in Alfred's arms. But he slowly relaxed and allowed his own arms to return the embrace, grasping the back of Alfred's shirt tightly.

Alfred had genuinely been terrified by what he had experienced that night. It was something foreign to him, something he didn't know or could understand. He felt helpless...something terrible for a hero like him.

And Arthur's own fear, when he had received Alfred's phone call, hearing the fear, the desperation in his voice...It was something he never wanted to hear again.

Never again.

"I'm sorry," Alfred murmured against his neck, seeking comfort in his touch.

Arthur felt tears begin to form, blurring his vision as he pressed his face against Alfred's shoulder. "Don't _ever_ do anything like that again."

"I won't."

"Promise me."

"Only if you promise me not to keep stuff like this from me again," Alfred retorted quickly, pulling back enough to look at Arthur in the eyes. "If you had just told me the truth, maybe..."

Arthur held back a snort of disbelief as he removed his hands from the back of Alfred's shirt, to instead rest on the taller nation's shoulders. "Would you have really believed me?"

There was a pregnant pause and a flicker of guilt appeared in Alfred's blue eyes. "Probably not."

Arthur sighed and looked off to the side. They then lapsed into silence, both of them mildly aware that they were still holding onto each other, Arthur's hands resting comfortably on Alfred's broad shoulders while the American's hands lingered on his hips.

Maybe the whole ordeal could have been avoided if he just explained the truth to Alfred. But then again, he had tried multiple times to enlighten him on the existence of Fairy folk and the unicorns. But if one wanted to be technical, they could simply blame that movie "Candyman" that started to whole blasted notion of calling upon the dead.

Yeah, they'll just blame that awful movie for now.

"Alright," Arthur conceded, lifting his head to look directly into Alfred's sky blue eyes. "I promise not to keep anything like this from you again."

"Then I promise, too," Alfred replied.

Whether it was from the buzzing adrenaline winding down or the way the pale moonlight from the window gave the darkened room a romantic glow, the kiss that followed the promise of being more open to one another wasn't all that unexpected. A surprise? A little. Unwanted? Most definitely not.

The kiss was soft at first; hesitant yet lingering all the same. A mere pressing of the lips as Alfred's hand slid around to the small of Arthur's back, pulling him closer. Arthur's hands had slid from his shoulders to rest against his chest, his fingers grasping onto the material of his shirt.

The embrace soon deepened, however it wasn't heated or overly passionate, but explorative and loving.

How long they stayed like that neither of them knew, and frankly, neither cared.

Finally drawing apart, Alfred rested his forehead against Arthur's, looking into each other's eyes. No declarations of everlasting love followed. Words, whether truthful or white lies, had always led to misunderstandings (mostly of the epic variety) to flare between them. So, they just held onto one another, letting their actions say what they could not.

"Despite what could have happened, summoning Mary was probably for the best," Arthur said after a moment of silence, dropping his gaze to look at his hands that were pressed against Alfred's chest. "If you had not summoned her, then I would not have been able to free her from her curse."

Alfred's hands pressed against the small of Arthur's back. "Is she really gone, though?"

"Why don't you try the ritual again and find out?" Arthur replied with a smirk, trailing his finger down Alfred's chest, almost as if daring him.

"No, I'll take your word for it," Alfred quickly replied as he pulled Arthur down onto the couch with him, sitting him next to him, making it so the older nation was snuggled comfortably against his side.

"Alfred?" Arthur said his name, his head coming to rest on Alfred's shoulder to look at him in the eyes...and gave him a very pointed glare, his green eyes sharp as ever. "The next time I tell you not to mess about with the spiritual; listen to me."

"Way ahead of you," Alfred pacified with an affirmed nod and Arthur seemed satisfied with that, nestling down again.

Wrapping an arm around Arthur's waist to pull him closer, Alfred settled himself against the back of the couch, a feeling of contentment washing over him. He won't have to worry about ghosts coming to get him tonight, not with Artie wrapped up in his arms. Arthur always kept the ghosts at bay and now he knew why.

Those spells he used sounded awesome! It kinda makes him wonder a few things, though.

"So...what other spells can you do?"

Arthur gave him a rather hard poke in the stomach. "Let's not start so soon, hmm?"


	13. Extra

Walking back into Alfred's hotel room, even in broad daylight, was a surreal experience. Despite what had occurred in this room the night before, it wasn't all that messed up. Sure, there were a few overturned pieces of furniture, and a few light bulbs were blown, but nothing that was too broken or damaged that it was irreparable.

Saved for the mirror, of course. It was completely and utterly ruined. It was going to take some fixing, that was for certain.

"Isn't there a spell you could use to, I don't know, turn it back to what it was?" Alfred asked him as he eyed off the mirror.

"A fixing spell?" Arthur queried back with an arched eyebrow. "Really, Alfred?"

...Ok, yes there was a 'fixing spell' that he could use to transform the mirror back to its original form by actually reverting the singular object back to a time to when it wasn't damaged.

He wasn't going to tell that to Alfred, though. If he was to learn of this little piece of magical information, it'll be all; "Iggy, I accidentally broke this" or "I accidentally broke that, fix it for me!"

The boy was already quite reckless and destructive as it was.

"Artie?" Alfred said in a rather slow drawl but with a rather blank look on his face. "There is a fixing spell, isn't there?"

Blast it all!

"Iggy!" Alfred whined loudly and dramatically. "What did I tell you about not keeping stuff like this from me?"

"And what did I say about magic only being used in life or death situations?" Arthur snappily retorted.

"But this is life or death! The hotel manager could kill me if he learns I broke a large mirror!"

"I highly doubt he'll kill you. He'll just make you pay for the damages."

"Iggy! Please!"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Puh-lease?"

"No!"

"I could...make it worth your while."

"G-git! Don't say stuff like that!"

"Well~?"

"F-fine! Only this once!"

"You're the best, Artie!"

"G-get of me, stupid git!"


End file.
